


a way in

by sylleblossom (kemonomimi)



Series: elena might be an abo visual novel heroine [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, F/M, First Time, In this Chilis we ride or die with ABO, Knotting, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minimal Blood Play, PWP, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Scent Marking, mild jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kemonomimi/pseuds/sylleblossom
Summary: rufus shinra finds a loophole into his turks' pack once and for all.
Relationships: Elena/Rufus Shinra
Series: elena might be an abo visual novel heroine [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910920
Kudos: 28





	a way in

She remembers the panic when she couldn’t find the blockers in her jacket pocket where she kept backups, the way Tseng was blandly dismissive of the problem by telling her to deal with it a few hotel rooms over, and Reno and Rude volunteering to help. Rude was a calming presence in general, and Reno always let her snuggle close and wear his scent, nipping playfully when she almost got too far in the haze.

She remembers the slam of a door, the feeling of abruptly being slung over a broad shoulder, and then it is a blur of motion.

Until now. 

She’s in the royal suite, she realizes, when she turns her head to gaze at the skyline, Junon’s waves waxing and waning against the coastline. Firm fingers turn her gaze back, and it is Rufus Shinra leaning over her.

He draws in her scent, face against her neck. Who knew he had such a delicious treat under his thumb the whole time.

“Sir…?” She asks, bleary, but he shushes her with the pad of his thumb against her lips. 

He freezes in place suddenly, growling, gripping her chin instead. “Who touched you?”

She blinks hard like she doesn’t understand the question -- or rather, why he is asking in the first place. “Reno…? It settles me down--” She breaks off with a gasp when he suddenly bites the side of her neck, tongue laving the teeth marks he leaves behind. His scent is thicker, powerful and it makes her push her knees together in embarrassment when her own flares up to meet his, to entice such a dominant alpha closer. 

“Elena,” he says, cold as ice and serious, suddenly, catching her off-guard and wide-eyed. “This is your only chance to say no. You are not so far lost that you cannot make a conscious decision.” She nods, head tilting against the sheets to listen. “I will take you,” he murmurs, voice silky, face inching towards hers with every statement. “I will knot you,” another inch, his nose nearly against hers; “And I will mate you.” He whispers it against her ear and she shivers at the finality in his tone. 

She’s trembling. Turks don’t tremble, she tells herself, but her body doesn’t listen to her. He visibly preens to her response, pleased to see one of his most elite shivering in his bed. Well -- his temporary bed. But he would make sure to spread her scent all over his proper bed, if she reaches out and takes his hand.

It has a lot of perks, mating his only omega Turk: ensuring a lock down the pack bonds that run between them and extend to him, for starters. He had considered it long ago, but had never caught a whiff of her scent to seal the idea into his mind. Now he waits and watches to see if his plans will come to fruition.

She takes his hand. 

To mate would eliminate the heat season, her logical side encourages; he would be in control of it, ensuring mutual safety during critical missions. She doubts he has any interest aside from a convenient way to keep his Turks in place. (She is wrong.) She thinks she is little more than a chess piece on a board, but that was the life for which she willingly signed when she became a Turk.

It is a sudden shift. 

Hands roving her body, teeth biting up her neck as deft fingers undo her tie, push at her uniform jacket, and literally rip her white blouse out of the way. “Sir, that’s my uniform!” 

Once he has successfully removed what’s left, he answers with a quick, “I’m sure you have another one,” before taking her abandoned tie and knotting it around her wrists. The president leans back to admire his work. Her bra isn’t very sexy, and that too is snapped off and met with an annoyed huff. 

He’ll have to buy her something pretty, if she is to be his omega. 

The fact that she is still coherent enough to express mostly-silent annoyances is a testament to her strong will, but Rufus is growing tired of the challenge to his authority, as cute as it is to think she has any say in what will happen tonight now that she has agreed with his offer. Pants and underwear are just as casually discarded, leaving her nude and bare beneath his scrutiny.

He plays with a bit of silver on her waist, humming his approval. She is ever so slender, a dancer’s physique of lithe muscles and soft around the edges. His thumbs fit between the two sets of twin jewelry all too perfectly. 

And her /scent/ -- it’s rich and alluring, velvet over steel. Before he snatched her away it was just a whisper of something warm, but the way it had deepened for him went straight to his ego and dick. It’s dripping down her leg, shiny in the light. He keeps his eyes trained on it as he removes his own clothes, returning to press his knees into the bed between her legs to keep them apart. Absently Rufus reaches down to coat his finger thoroughly in just what was sliding down her thighs. “Poor thing,” he coos, low, teasing her as he toys along her inner thighs with his fingers, “pent up after so many blockers.” He watches her eyes go hazy slowly, lulled by his presence. “Oh, but I won’t be kind; you’ll have to beg for my cock and my knot.” 

She parts her lips as if to speak, but whatever it was on her tongue breaks into a muffled moan when Rufus leans down to lick a stripe up her inner thigh and ghost his breath over her cunt. “Oh,” he mutters beneath his breath in mild surprise; he hadn’t expected the slick to actually taste good -- it was intended to just be another way to tease her and to make her drink it instead from his lips in a show of power, but he changes his mind. He’s greedy; that’s his now. 

Soon she’ll be all his, in every sense of the phrase.

Perhaps, had he more patience, he would spend a while taking what was rightfully his from her cunt, wring out reaction after reaction until she’s nothing but an incoherent mess, but this is their first time together, and his instincts are urging him to _claimclaimclaim_. He lifts her to her knees by the knot of the tie, smirking when she follows his guidance obediently, and turns her around to sit in his lap, back to chest. Without being bidden to do so she crooks her arms back and around his neck, and he practically purrs with pleasure. It is so small a gesture, but it leaves her completely open to him, legs spread over his knees and arms behind their heads.

She’s positively a minx, though, grinding back against his upright cock, dragging it over the cleft of her ass repeatedly. “Beg,” he tells again, mouth against her ear, and he bites down on her lobe when she tries to speak, shuddering in contentment when it makes her trip over her words.

“Pl-ah-please, give me your knot,” she whines, the normal ferocity of her features melted away as she mindlessly grinds in his lap. 

“Please /alpha/,” he corrects, twisting a perky nipple cruelly. He likes the way it makes her hips stutter in their attempt to seduce him into giving her what she wants. 

“Please, alpha,” she complies, glancing back at him with dewy eyes before she tilts her jaw just enough to nip sweetly at the underside of his.

He wants to make her beg for hours, but that little nip unravels his plans. He’ll have plenty of time to play with her later, learn how to make her sing and keen for him. But he wants her now, and Rufus Shinra always gets what he wants.

“You’re sopping wet.” It was meant to be an insult, but he’s mesmerized by the thin, spider-web strands of slick connecting her thighs to his when he lifts her and abruptly seats her on his cock. Immediately she starts moving, wriggling against the knot at the base she does not have. “Wring your pleasure from my cock,” he commands. “Earn my knot, _pretty little omega_.” She rolls her hips almost too well. It makes him growl possessively and bite at her throat again. She’ll never ride another’s cock again after their mating anyway, he remembers smugly, licking up the blood he spilled from a particularly vicious bite.

He doesn’t need to coax her with more words; she’s riding his cock like it's her saving grace, whining for his knot and keening prettily. “Good girl,” he praises, rewarding her diligence with a thumb on her clit and another skirting over the curve of her breast. It only drives her faster and faster until her whole body shudders and clenches tight around him. She screams when he sinks his teeth into her scent gland and lets the blood drip down her clavicle.

“I suppose you’ve earned my knot.” His voice doesn’t shake but it's a near thing. He pushes her face-first into the mattress and uses the angle of her body to press into that damning tightness until it breaches her completely and slides into place and locks there. 

Her cries are muffled against the mattress when he comes from it all -- the heat, the tight grip of her body around his, and the splash of red against the sheets from her still-bleeding mark. He fills her full and lazily waits for the knot to subside, a hand beneath their bodies to stroke at her stomach, trace the muscles that line it.

She is overwhelmed, a wreck, but his cum securely locked in her body soothes her in a primal way. When the knot does die down and he begins to pull out she whines weakly, missing its presence already. His low chuckle makes her lazily glare over her shoulder as the fog clears up just a bit, giving her reprieve before her next wave.

She complains when he lifts her onto his lap again, but this time she is facing him, his forehead resting against hers. She feels a little trill of pride dancing up her spine to see long, blond eyelashes slanting over sated blue eyes. He gave her the best fuck of her life and from the look in his eyes, it is a mutual feeling. 

“Elena, bite.” He instructs. He doesn’t tilt his neck; he’s a dominant alpha, and not even will he completely expose himself to his mate, but she tilts her head instead to meet his demands, teeth sinking in to his mark with the ferocity befitting a Turk. 

He feels the blood drip down his back and smirks back at her when she returns to him, forehead-to-forehead.

His Turk, his mate, his omega.

**Author's Note:**

> listen. i had to do it.
> 
> sequel with all the turks & rufus? maybe. idk. i ship it. 
> 
> written for a friend who is as much of a degenerate as i am.
> 
> yeah those headcanon piercings make a reappearance, whatcha gonna do about it?


End file.
